Tell Saxe [Cummins] I saw the picture of him (at the National Book Awards) and he looked real sweet.
Had a letter from Isherwood, who says he has quit movie work and settled down to finish his novel—which is good news. Newton writes that he had a very gay time in New York in conjunction with the prize-giving—he even appeared on Mary Margaret McBride’s program: if you can feature that!192
Love from
T
[Collection Columbia University Library]
TO MARY LOUISE ASWELL
[Fontana Vecchia]
[Taormina, Sicily]
March 22, 1951
Marylou dearest,
The situation you spiritually find yourself in disturbs me deeply; but I cannot agree with you on the attempted ‘solution’ you propose: to go away and find a ‘new center’. If the new center is to be an emotional one, and it necessarily must be, then going away will neither give you that, nor eradicate the past. What you are in for is a wait: the wait between what has been and what will be: and the bridge between those points should, in fact can only be in work, however distracted, in contact, however tiresome. I know the punishment you endure in this workaday world; but at least it is a real thing and I fear for you if you withdraw from it: I fear for you if you withdraw in an illusionary search for a ‘new center’—which is what? simply a new sense of security. If security is within oneself, then how can you find it on a leave of absence?—when primarily the result would be not to make you so much absent from a job as from yourself.
This can seem a random and easy proselytizing that does not take account of peril, true pains and doubts. If so, it’s a fault of communication; because I do take account—and, having done so, must strongly advise that you take the new job, huckster’s role though it may be: that in itself is the kind of hurdle, professional, not personal, that I want for you. You have the resources (as you would surprisingly discover) to meet such a challenge: you do not have reason [unclear] for withdrawal, however limited—because withdrawal requires a sureness of self that for you can be only a point in the future: the reward, I repeat, of a wait. Very well, I have not seen you in some time, not really seen you in a long long time; there can be changes, reactions that I don’t know. But I risk the impertinence of saying that I have never been wrong about you. Do by all means leave the Bazaar, darling; and do by all means accept that other job.
I will write Janice [unclear], though I’m not sure that I think she should return to Europe. Give my love to Pearl. Jack sends his. We are fine, Fontana the same as ever. I love you always
T
[Collection Aswell Family]
TO ROBERT LINSCOTT
Fontana Vecchia
April 8, 1951
Dear Bob,
In the same mail as this I’m sending to Marian my new chapters; when you get them, I wish you would read the whole mss. all the way through. There is now just the long last chapter; pray for me.
Also, in the same mail, I’m sending Anna Mayerson’s frontispiece drawing … directly to you. It will reproduce beautifully by a process called photolitography [sic]. But I’ve written Ray Frieman [Freiman] all about this. Anna decided to abandon her jacket design, as we both decided it would be better to have a plain bold jacket like Other Voices, or Tree of Night. But I’ve also written all this to Mr Frieman [Freiman]. Oh I do hope you will like the frontispiece; I’m mad about it.
I’m in bed with the meanest kind of flu; also, my whole behind is sore and infected due to having been given a penicillin injection with a needle that had not been properly sterilized. Such is the horror of Sicilian medicine.
Can’t wait to hear from you about the chapters et al. But haven’t got the strength to write any more. Except that I miss you; and love
T
P.S. Bob—on pg. 12 of my mss. would you please change the word “folks” to people. Should read “and people told her he’d had offers” etc.
[Collection Columbia University Library]
TO BENNETT AND PHYLLIS CERF AND HERBERT WISE
Fontana Vecchia
Taormina, Sicily
April 10, 1951
Darling friends: Phyllis, Bennett, Herbert,
Just when you were deciding that I no longer loved you (at 2:11 a.m.), you were no doubt among my tenderest thoughts, for I miss you twenty-five hours a day. Not, I must say, that you’ve been dazzling correspondents, any of you: many’s the night I’ve trudged down to the post-office, then trudged back empty-handed—thinking, a fine lot they are, whirling from one gay event to another, never giving a thought to poor Truman: far off there on a windswept hill with nothing but the sound of the sea to cheer him up. Oh chilluns, it do get mighty powerful lonesome here. I so long to finish my book and end this exile; another two months, I think.
From time to time people do pop in. Emlyn Williams and Molly were here for a week—chockfull of London gossip; and little [Arnold] Saint Subber appeared here just in time to have a full scale nervous breakdown.
I’ve concocted the most scandalous parlor game. It’s SO educational; and you can slander people right and left, all in the interest of le sport. It’s called IDC, which stands for International Daisy Chain. You make a chain of names, each one connected by the fact that he or she has had an affair with the person previously mentioned; the point is to go as far and as incongruously as possible. For example, this one is from Peggy Guggenheim to King Farouk. Peggy Guggenheim to Lawrence Vail to Jeanne Connolly to Cyril Connolly to Dorothy Walworth to King Farouk. See how it works? Peggy Guggenheim had an affair with L. Vail who had an affair with J. Connolly etc. Here is another, and much more difficult, not to say raffiné, example: from Henry James to Ida Lupino. As follows: Henry James to Hugh Walpole to Harold Nicholson [Nicolson] to the Hon. David Herbert to John C. Wilson to Noel Coward to Louis Hayward to Ida Lupino. Or: from Aaron Copland to Marlene Dietrich. Aaron Copland to Victor Kraft to Cecil Beaton to Greta Garbo to Mercedes Da-Costa to Tommy Adams to Marlene Dietrich. Perhaps it all sounds rather dreary on paper; but I can assure you that, with a few drinks inside you and some suitable folk to play with, you’ll be amazed. Suppose you began with John Gunther … where might that not lead one? John Gunther to Mrs Hornblow to Wayne Morris to Jane Wyman to Elia Kazan to Marlon Brando to Tennessee Williams to Frankie Merlo to Joseph Alsop to Bill Caskey to C. Isherwood to Wystan Auden to Ruth Lowinsky to Wolcott Gibbs to Barbara Wilding to Billy Redfield to June Grant to George Balanchine to Danilova to Serge Lifar to Diaghalev [Diaghilev] to Nijinsky. Now I’m sure Mr Gunther didn’t know he had this connection with Nijinsky! Oh the immorality of it all.
Bennett, have you seen the frontispiece drawing Anna Mayerson has done for my book? I’m mad about it. I hope Phyllis and Herbert will see it, too. She is such a genuis [sic], Anna Mayerson.
I have something lovely for you, Phyllis; but it’s too fragile to send through the mail; I’ll have to bring it. It’s an old French watch face that I found in Palermo and had made into a lapel pin: should look wonderful on a trim little suit.
I wish you were all coming to Europe; perhaps Herbert is. But I give up on you other two. I know that if I’m to see you it will be on native soil. I expect to be home around August 1st. Will you be in Provincetown? Newton Arvin is taking a house in Wellfleet, and I am going there until the middle of Sept. That isn’t too terribly far from Provincetown, is it?
Well, darling ones, I’d best climb back into my China tree. Kisses, heart’s love, et mille tenderesse [sic]
Your own
T
Forgot to include my most
